Olivia's New Friend
by Mizufae
Summary: Everybody changes, adapts to their needs over time, and the Doctor is no exception. Now that he’s human, finding himself rapidly growing older and adopting more eccentricities than ever before, maybe it’s time for him to finally make a name for himself.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Olivia's New Friend [1/??]

Characters: The Doctor, OC

Rating: G

Spoilers: spoilers for 4:13

Author's Note: This is the first fanfic I've ever written since I was twelve! Comments and concrit are extremely appreciated. If anybody wants to be my beta and/or britcritter, I'd love you forever. I'm aiming for something different from the glut of the post finale fic out there.

Summary: Everybody changes, adapts to their needs over time, and the Doctor is no exception. Now that he's human, finding himself rapidly growing older and adopting more eccentricities than ever before, maybe it's time for him to finally make a name for himself.

The first time Olivia Walden saw him she was waiting for the bus with a bag full of books and he was crossing the road away from her. The second time she saw him he bumped into her accidentally in the atlas section of the local branch library, his thin body mostly obscured by an enormous volume of what looked to be ancient Norwegian maps. The third time Olivia saw him was the first time she ever noticed he existed. They were in the supermarket.

Her basket was nearly full and she was contemplating a package of soy cheese when the man next to her made a high keening moan from the back of his throat. His eyes were flicking between two different blocks of tofu that he held in his hands. Olivia, being the sort of person who naturally eavesdrops and got in trouble for staring when she was small, gave him a good once over.

He wore a plain brown suit that was slim fitting and a blue shirt, no tie. Red trainers peaked out from his trousers that had seen better days. They were nearly pink, with a hole that had been repaired on one side. He squinted, took a deep breath, and lifted one hand to scratch his graying sideburn. The block of firm tofu made a soft splut noise as it smacked into his face.

"Brilliant." He finally noticed Olivia, who had failed to stifle her laughter, and turned to face her. "Look, hold this for a second, just a second, thanks." Olivia startled as he grabbed her hand and plopped the offending tofu into it. He adjusted the large messenger bag he had slung around his torso, making a few odd clink noises as he did so, and reached into his inside coat pocket. When his sleeve snagged back a bit she saw at least three wristwatches, and Olivia realized that this man emitted a quiet cacophony of ticking noises, none of them in time with one another. Suddenly her hand was grabbed again and the man's face, now wearing thick-rimmed spectacles, was inches away from the tofu. "Can't read a thing these days, I'm far too old, this is downright insulting."

"Um, excuse me, sir, is there something that I could maybe help you with?" Olivia leaned down and put her basket on the floor.

"Well, perhaps. How much do you know about tofu? I see that you have some soy cheese there, I've never understood that, is it some sort of macrobiotic process? Do they just color it orange and the human mind sees the color and assigns the taste? Never tried it myself. I've got to eat better, Tony says that it's best to start as soon as possible but in my case I might as well start now, maybe it isn't too late, and at least I like vegetables but I just could never get around to figuring out tofu. What do you do with it? This is half of why I spent so much time in Britain to begin with, but now I've run out of excuses and they are making me go in for a checkup next week so I'd better be ready for it, I say, when they give me a list of what I'm supposed to eat, I can say, why yes I have six different ways of making tofu delectable and I've been eating it all this week, I don't think this will be problematic at all."

Olivia realized that this man was extraordinarily worried. But right now, she was worried that the circulation in her hand was going to be cut off. Putting the soy cheese back, she gently extricated her wrist from his grip and gave him back his block of tofu. "Get the firm stuff. The one in the blue wrapper. That's what Meryl gets. I don't know about soy cheese, I can't keep the stuff down, but my flatmate is unfortunately afflicted with a case of veganism, first degree, and she loves it. If you want recipes try the internet, I've not been able to cook one thing Meryl likes other than chocolate cake. I suppose if you're trying to eat better you shouldn't have chocolate cake though, or I'd share the recipe with you."

It seems that the ticking man was not used to people being able to keep track of his rambling monologues, because she had stunned him into a moment of silence. It didn't last long. A grin broke out across his face and he tumbled three blocks of tofu in the blue wrappers into Olivia's basket. Adjusting his bag over his lean frame again, this time with a faint mooing sound, he picked up the soy cheese, deposited it in her basket, linked his arm with hers and pulled her along to the cashier.

"You were done with your shopping, yeah? Let me buy your groceries for you, my treat." Numbly nodding, Olivia helped him put her groceries on the conveyor belt. The cashier was halfway through, past her bacon and artichokes, when she came to her senses.

"Wait, what? No no, I'll be paying for my own groceries thank you very much. You don't owe me any favors. I don't even know who you are! Who are you?" Her hands found their way to her hips and she shot him a glare. He shrunk back, the megawatt grin toned down and he picked his tofu out of her groceries with thin fingers.

"I'm the, um." He paused, rolling something around in his mouth, and for a moment there was just low ticking and the beep of the cashier scanning Olivia's granola bars. "I'm just John." He almost looked disappointed in his own name. "Sorry. I didn't mean to presume, but that's what works the best, most of the time." He reached back and opened up the flap of his bag, revealing more watches attached to the inside, and pulled out some empty totes. "At the very least, use these instead of the paper bags they've got here. Did you know that they only started using recycled materials in them last year?"

Olivia watched as he prattled on and bagged her groceries for her. She couldn't pin down his age, but apparently ten years ago he'd been in the rainforests, looking at "the same trees that are probably in that pile right there". His hair was grey at the temples fading up into brown, and he had crow's feet around the eyes, but he seemed to act younger than he ought to. For a madman, that is.

"Ah, yes, my tofu, thank you my good man." He paid for his purchases with an unaccustomed air, like he wasn't used to handling change, holding out the coins in his hand for the cashier to pick the right amount. "Can't ever keep track of these new metals," he mumbled. Olivia cocked an eyebrow, but paid it no mind.

With a wave and a quiet "Enjoy your soy" Olivia turned to walk to the bus stop. She made it halfway there when she heard a rhythmic clanking coming up from behind her. "Look, John, I need to be back in thirty minutes to start making dinner, it's been a curious experience meeting you but I have a new book in my bedroom that I am most eager to start reading."

John brought himself up even with her. "I take the same bus these days, and I'll be needing those totes back or the lady of the house will have my head." He was clearly lying. Olivia was no stealer of tote bags though, and allowed him to sit next to her on the bus. She was prepared to call Meryl any second to meet her at the bus stop and make an escape if need be. No fool was Olivia Walden.

"What's the book you're so eager to read?" John hadn't been able to keep still, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt until it was completely askew.

"Oh, just some scifi." She waited for him to understand that she was trying to ignore him, but the way he looked at her made her go on. "It's silly, but I love the stuff. It's the new one by Adric Smith, maybe you've heard of him?" She was not prepared for the grin that came back to John's face, nor the way he nearly knocked her off her seat with his flailing arm.

"The Golden Cliffs of Ferian? Heard of him? Yeah, you could say that." He stopped flailing and finally managed to find what he had been looking for inside his bag, and pulled out an unmarked green hardcover book. "Here's the advanced copy. Loads of typos. Can you believe that there were twenty-five different misspellings of the word feriospheric? It's like they don't even know what feriospherance is. I tried to explain, but those editors, once you get to the proper science, they just wave their hands and tick off an email telling you to consult an expert. What expert? I daresay I'm the only one in sixteen light years. Ooh! Here's my stop. Too bad yours wasn't first."

Goggling, Olivia saw the bus was pulling up to the corner of the Tyler estates, one of the few places in the city with privately owned green spaces left. "Excuse me, John, maybe I can get your bags back to you, um, another day?" This was awkward. Her hand felt sticky wrapped around the pole she'd grabbed to keep balance as the bus slowed.

"Not a problem. Here we go!" John found a card in his coat pocket, flicked what looked like a gummy candy off of it, placed it inside the cover of his book, and handed it to her. "The number on the bottom, give it a ring. I'd like to meet Meryl, maybe she can show me how to eat tofu without wrapping it in bacon first. Oh, look at me, never asked you your name. And you are?"

"Olivia Walden. Are you Adric Smith? I thought you were called John." She shook the hand he offered her and found his two handed grip disconcertingly strong.

"Oh, I've got loads of names." He tripped down the steps and gave her a wave as the bus pulled away. Olivia opened the book he'd given her. The card read "Adric Smith, teller of tales from another dimension" with a number about six digits longer than it ought to be.

She watched as he placed his hand in the security alcove of the gate to the Tyler estates, and waited while nothing happened. The bus pulled away and John appeared to be cursing, kicking at the gate, and pulling a cell phone out at the same time. Nobody just walked into the front gate of the Tyler estates other than the Tylers. This John was definitely mad. Olivia was definitely going to give him a call.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Olivia's New Friend [2/??]

Characters: The Doctor, Tony Tyler

Rating: G

Spoilers: spoilers for 4:13

Author's Note: This is the first fanfic I've ever written since I was twelve! Comments and concrit are extremely appreciated. If anybody wants to be my beta and/or britcritter, I'd love you forever. I'm aiming for something different from the glut of the post finale fic out there.

Chapter two got away from me. This story is going to take a bit longer to tell than I thought it would. I'm trying not to just lay everything out in order, but it should all be revealed in time. I swear it will all begin to make sense next chapter. Maybe. I didn't mean for this one to be from Tony's perspective, but he really invaded my brain and didn't want to let go.

Summary: Everybody changes, adapts to their needs over time, and the Doctor is no exception. Now that he's human, finding himself rapidly growing older and adopting more eccentricities than ever before, maybe it's time for him to finally make a name for himself.

Part One

Last Time: _She watched as he placed his hand in the security alcove of the gate to the Tyler estates, and waited while nothing happened. The bus pulled away and John appeared to be cursing, kicking at the gate, and pulling a cell phone out at the same time. Nobody just walked into the front gate of the Tyler estates other than the Tylers. This John was definitely mad. Olivia was definitely going to give him a call. _

"Tony? Ow! What? No. I just hurt my foot on the front gate. Yes, again. Yes. No, I didn't get that text. No, I didn't get scanned yesterday; I didn't leave yesterday. Yes, your mother and I have had that conversation many times already. Look, will you just come and open the gate for me? Just pause it, doesn't everything have a pause button by now? I don't want to walk a mile around to the back door. I've got my things with me. I need to stop off at my console. Yes, you can come with me. No, you are not going to get any more favors from me, young man. If you don't come open the gate for me, I very well might break my old, weak back trying to climb it and your sister would never forgive you. Yes. Thank you. I'll be waiting."

The Doctor put away his cell phone and slumped against the large iron gates that enclosed the Tyler estate. He unbuttoned his jacket in the high summer heat, cracked his knuckles, and sat down on the warm stone sidewalk. The wide green expanse of lawn and garden that surrounded the main house was kept under tight security. Entry was allowed through handprint and vital scans that were randomly flushed and reset in order to keep past employees from gaining access to sensitive areas. This was the source of much employee unrest, but there were secrets to keep, and the eccentricities of Jackie Tyler could always expand to keep them.

For the next fifteen minutes the Doctor rested. The gardens buzzed with the bees that had never fled this Earth. The Doctor checked exactly what time it was in Moscow: brown watch on left wrist, second smallest dial. He checked how many rotations this universe's Venus had left until it was Venusian spring: second interior flap, red-banded dial on the messenger bag cradled in his lap. He checked how many seconds it had been since Tony had said he'd come let him in: the clock on his cell phone.

One of the buzzing noises from the gardens got louder and the Doctor got up with a small grunt of effort. Along the main path, Tony tooled along on his little yellow scooter. At seventeen, Tony was not the most obliging man in the universe, but he was extremely trustworthy. Took after his father that way, and a few others as well. His red hair glinted in the sunlight. The Doctor frowned. He should have been wearing a helmet.

"Now, where did I put those keys?" Tony rummaged in his pockets while studiously ignoring the huge key ring on the handlebar of his scooter.

"Oh, just get to it already, I've got heat sensitive items that need to go into cold storage!"

Tony's eyebrows shot up, intrigued, and obliged him with finding the three different keys to open the gates. Tony placed his right hand on the security alcove on the inside of the gate and turned the keys with his left. The gates swung out and open with a mechanical whine.

"Father Time. How goes it?" Tony offered his unused helmet to the Doctor who plunked it on his head and strapped it under his chin.

"Not so awful, my boy. Must get to my console soon! These goods are liable to dry out in this heat."

Tony revved his scooter and the Doctor sat down behind him. They cut to the left and around some hedges to reveal a small blue gazebo about half a mile away. "What've you got this time?" asked Tony; eager to be in on any new secrets the Doctor might be privy to. "Alien babies from an arctic planet landed at the wrong coordinates? Rare fungi spores?"

The Doctor winked at Tony as he got off the scooter and gestured for him to stand in an exact spot under the gazebo's familiar blue eaves. Kicking out a segment of the center pole, lifting a piece of the railing, and pushing a conveniently hidden wood-capped button, the Doctor replied "Better! It's tofu." and swiftly disappeared from sight.

"What? Tofu?" Tony followed the Doctor down the ladder that the railing folded into, climbing down the trapdoor and entering the antechamber of the console room. "Is it at least extraterrestrial tofu?"

The expansive gardens of the Tyler estate had one main purpose, and that was to hide an underground labyrinth of Cybermen-proof chambers. In the years after the attacks, they had been used for more purposes than any one person could keep track of. Torchwood still utilized some of the offices closer to the main house. This particular chamber had originally been installed for the safety of the groundskeepers. In case of attack, the bunker could hold twenty people for a week when it was fully stocked.

For the past decade it had become something much more than a glorified bomb shelter, although the concrete and secret entrance had remained. It was now the Doctor's console room, and anybody who had never been in it before would have been utterly convinced that it was the home of a madman.

The Doctor swung around to the back wall of the bunker where a large refrigerator had been installed and carefully placed his three blocks of firm tofu inside. Folding his grocery tote back up, he turned to the central bank of tables and opened his messenger bag.

"It is one hundred percent terrestrial, soybean based, entirely too bland to be possible tofu. I thought you would have been glad."

Tony observed as the Doctor went through his ritual. He took each watch and time device out of its location, lined them up, checked them with his main computer for accuracy, tossed the ones that were off by the smallest amount on the triangular table to the right, and reached up to get his screwdriver kit that hung from the central lighting column. Tony knew it was fairly useless to hold a conversation with the Doctor when he was winding his watches.

He had been seven years old and the Doctor had come home with Rose for good. They had been traveling for years, all over the planet, and Tony barely remembered his big sister's face, let alone the Doctor's. He'd been so angry when his father had told him that the secret hiding spot below the gazebo was going to be the Doctor's from then on. But the Doctor had needed it more than Tony. Rose had been hurt, and the Doctor had trouble not setting things on fire when he was upset. Cyberman-proof luckily equated to explosion-proof.

At first, there had been three large tables laid out in a row. The day after the Doctor first started using the gazebo shelter, the three tables had turned into six triangular tables arranged in a circle around a support pole. A week later, he'd needed more light, and a seven year old Tony had watched, hiding in the corner, as the Doctor arranged lights in a large cluster around the pole, with hooks and tools dangling like a glowing concrete Christmas tree. In the following decade, every vestige of the shelter was cannibalized. Cots became padding for chairs and metal tubes for esoteric instruments. Canned goods were emptied and used for containers. The refrigerator was stolen from a Torchwood room in the dark of night, appearing from a tunnel that didn't seem to be on any of the blueprints connecting it to the main house. Nobody knew just what the Doctor did in his console room, but if he wasn't with Rose, that's where he was. Well, everyone knew this was where he wrote, and checked what time it was. Tony stopped poking around the pile of manuscripts layered next to the typewriter on the opposite table to where the Doctor was finishing his timepiece adjustments.

"I am glad." Tony picked up the conversation where it had stopped. "It's just a bit of a letdown, is all. Why didn't you ask Fiona to buy some extra this week, for you to try?" Fiona was the Tyler's cook, and had been obliging Tony's vegetarian phase for an entire month now. His teenage enthusiasm managed to work around the fact that Fiona was an excellent Irish cook who had no clue what to do with tofu. The Doctor rolled his eyes. Last week he'd had a mouthful of Tony's "Spring Roll Surprise" and narrowly escaped the dining room with a flimsy excuse so he could run to the hallway and spit it out into a potted plant before Fiona caught him turning blue.

"Tony Tyler, you should know by now, the only way I'll get to eating properly is to make it an adventure. This is exactly the sort of adventure that must be kept secret."

"Secret like your last name?"

"Secret-er."

"Got it, Gramps." Tony saluted him and grabbed a jar of jam and a spoon from the refrigerator.

"Don't salute. And don't call me Gramps. And don't eat all of the mulberry!" The Doctor's stomach grumbled. It was nearly supper, and it was a Tuesday, which meant proper dining with Jackie and the family. He hoisted himself up from the console's chair and went to find his house slippers. Carefully removing his precious red trainers and shelving them in the R section, he released the pressure valve that locked up the tunnel to the Torchwood office, and most importantly, Rose's office. The Doctor toed into his slippers and padded over to Tony who had just managed to miss getting mulberry jam all over his last draft of "The Golden Cliffs of Ferian".

"The scooter's outside. I'll finish here; I swear I won't mess anything up. I'll meet you back for supper."

"Don't eat all the mulberry. And change into something cleaner. And wear your helmet on the way back!"

The Doctor's voice faded down the corridor and Tony rolled his eyes. Tuesday supper was usually a dull affair, but his mother had insisted on it the past eight years. Nobody opposed Jackie Tyler, not even the Doctor, and that had been enough for Tony for quite some time.

Eight years ago, Pete Tyler had collapsed at a Vitex board meeting on a Tuesday night. A series of massive strokes killed him inside of a week's time. Six days later, Tony, nine years old, had been hiding in the hedge maze beside the then-white gazebo.

"The white matches my gardenias!" Jackie had screamed. The Doctor and Tony's mother were having a shouting match where they thought nobody would hear them.

"Oi! Pete gave me this space to do with as I pleased. And it pleases me to paint it blue. Blue goes with everything, after all. Including your bleedin' gardenias."

"You shouldn't be wasting your time with this anyway, we've people to do it for us. You should be helping Rose, she's still walking with a cane, and you can't be troubled to spend the afternoon with her. What sort of man are you?"

There was a pause, and Tony heard the sound of brush handles hitting paint cans.

"Jackie. That's not what this argument is even about. Anyway, there isn't anywhere in the whole country that produces the right hue of blue anymore, so what's the use?" Jackie hadn't had a response at the time. Tony watched through the hedges as Jackie walked back to the house in silence and the Doctor had disappeared into his console room.

The next day, seven and a half cans of a rich blue paint appeared on the floor of the gazebo. Rose had tracked down the color in Brazil years before Tony was born to paint her bedroom door, and there had been leftovers. Jackie had hidden the extra paint, hoping she wouldn't want to paint the rest of her room. Tony had helped the Doctor paint his gazebo, and he agreed that the blue matched the gardenias just fine.

Strapping the matching yellow helmet on, Tony zipped down the path towards the silhouette of the Tyler home on his trusty scooter. The sun had begun to set and he was going to be late for Tuesday supper. If he was lucky, something interesting would happen this time. At the very least, he could slip some pears into the bite of his dinner the Doctor would try, and watch as he squirmed to spit it out without Rose noticing.


End file.
